


Wicked Game

by araliya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:23:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/araliya/pseuds/araliya
Summary: To be loved is a strength. To love is a weakness. - Zsa Zsa Gabor





	Wicked Game

**Author's Note:**

> Okay loves, this one’s an angst fest again. I’m not sure where it came from, but I don’t think I’ve ever touched on Chris’ feelings throughout the bearding. This is set quite early on, around the time he was writing the second TLOS book (which has parts that are really quite heartbreaking). Anyway, enough of my rambling, here’s some fic. 
> 
> Title and lyrics from Wicked Game by James Vincent McMorrow. It’s incredible. I chose this version because the lyrics are a lot more hopeful than the original’s. 
> 
> The song playing in the car is Fake Plastic Trees by Radiohead.

_(what a wicked game you play, you make me feel this way)_ **  
**

 

Chris is good at pretending.

 

Good at pretending like he’s not screaming inside when his life is used as a prop for a storyline, good at pretending that his stomach doesn’t twist at the way Lea will thread her fingers through Cory’s on a red carpet, good at pretending it doesn’t hurt, not that much at all, not really.

 

Chris is good at pretending that his heart doesn’t  _throb_  when Darren rolls over to face him, eyes warm and saying oh so much, even when there’s not a word spoken aloud.

 

_(i never dreamed that I'd need somebody like you)_

 

She catches him unawares. Chris is expecting the generic questions- the ‘ _what do you expect this season_ ’s and the ‘ _is it true that there’s drama between_ ’s and the ‘ _how do you the the audience will react_ ’s. What he’s not expecting is a woman with a sharp tongue and even sharper eyes, ones that seem almost snake-like in their iciness.

 

He’s heard about this one. She’s grown in notoriety among entertainment media, known for her ruthless determination to uncover anything and everything. She rarely publishes work that’s not general reporting for her media outlet, but when she does, it’s practically debilitating for whomever she’s targeted that time.

 

It’s why, when she asks  _that_  question, Chris stumbles and stutters, the walls around him dropping like they had never had any support in the first place. He scrambles to recover, to laugh and cover it up with a joke the way he always does- but it’s too late.

 

The damage is done and he can see it in her eyes.

 

_(it's strange what desire will make foolish people do)_

 

When their time is up and the cameras and microphones have been packed away, she approaches him. The iciness is gone and she must see the simmering panic in Chris’ eyes because she takes his hand and squeezes his fingers and tells him she’ll run the draft by his team before she publishes it.

 

It’s her way of assuring him that he’s safe. He and  _Darren_  are safe.

 

_(what a wicked thing to say, never felt that way)_

 

Chris sees her again, a few months later. They’re at a red carpet event, and he and Darren are being led around the back so that they can leave together. It is a small mercy- usually the exit is just as elaborate and constructed as the entry, with two different cars taking two different people who will only end up together in the same bed anyway.

 

She’s talking to one of the event managers, and catches his eye as they walk past. She smiles and pecks Chris’ cheeks lightly. Before he can leave, Darren waiting by the door of the car, she looks him dead in the eye.

 

“Anything,” she says, “and I’m here. For the both of you.”

 

He nods wordlessly, mindful of Darren’s politely inquisitive smile, and gives her one last wave before joining the man by the car.

 

_(my world was on fire, and no one could save me but you)_

 

In the car, the air is thick. It has been a rougher night than usual- full of fake smiles and red lips and hands held under tables, and Chris doesn’t understand it, but his body’s been coiling tighter and tighter for the past few weeks. He can feel it almost crawling under his skin- the anxiety, the panic of it.

 

It’s the kind of inexplicably  _sick_  feeling that needs to be drawn out and purged by a week hiding away, with just him and the words. It’s a cliche, he knows, but artists paint, singers sing, and Chris writes. It might be mindless drivel or an entirely new plotline, but it’s something. Darren’s seen him have one of these only once before- on the tour a while ago. It wholly consisted of Chris only coming out for performances and Darren making excuses for him when everyone else asked questions.

 

The cool air gusting from the vents makes his lungs contract a little, makes every breath a little more painful, and before Chris knows it, his eyes are prickling and his throat is closing up.

 

He turns his cheek and wipes surreptitiously at his eyes in a valiant attempt to hide the tears.

 

It doesn’t work, of course.

 

Darren’s onto him in a millisecond, eyes brimming with concern. He says, “hey Chris, Chris, sweetheart-” but Chris shakes his head, clamps his lips shut, and squeezes Darren’s hand so hard he can see the veins pop.

 

Chris knows there’s conflict in Darren’s eyes: he can see the way he’s not really okay with watching Chris hurt and not being able to  _do_  anything about it, but lets him pull his head into his lap anyway.

 

Darren thumbs under his eyes, brings his fingers up to his lips to kiss away the tears, and Chris turns inwards a little to curl a hand around Darren’s waist.

 

Light flashes across his face every time they pass a streetlight, and sad Radiohead plays from the speakers, and just for once, Chris wishes his life were less like a movie with no happy ending in sight, or a thousand page book with too many ellipses and too few full stops.

 

_(what a wicked thing to do, make me dream of you)_

  
Darren says Chris is the strong one, but he’s not, not really.

 

Chris hates admitting he’s anything but, but it’s okay if Darren’s the reason for it.

 

Darren’s the reason for everything.

 

_(and I wanna fall in love_

_with you)_


End file.
